


Late for the Wedding

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Greg Lestrade, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, First Meetings, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Mycroft, Omega Verse, Rimming, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Mycroft had nearly given up on finding his soulmate. Then Greg Lestrade bumped into him.





	Late for the Wedding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lmirandas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmirandas/gifts).



“I don’t want to be Queen.” Sherlock scowled at Mycroft’s reflection in the mirror as his brother fixed his hair. Normally that would be a maid’s job, but today Mycroft had insisted on dressing and preparing his brother himself. After all, it was Sherlock’s wedding day.

“We’ve been over this, Sherlock,” said Mycroft with infinite patience. “I don’t have a soulmate. Therefore I can’t have a heat. Therefore I can’t get pregnant. Therefore I can’t produce an heir and therefore I can’t be Queen.”

Sherlock touched the small swell of his own stomach. “You should be Queen anyway. This one can be heir if they’re omega.”

“That’s not how this works and you know it. I’ll be here to help you.” Mycroft stepped away to get a few things from a trunk.

“With Mother being ill you already run everything,” grumbled Sherlock.

“I help him and I’ll help you,” Mycroft repeated, bringing over some combs to finish off Sherlock’s hair. “You look beautiful.”

“I was half covered in dirt from taking a fall down a hill when I met John and he still wanted me.”

“The Kingdom will be looking to you today.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I still don’t know why things are this way.”

“Well, as far we know, soulmates don’t have rules we can understand. The Gods do what they will.”

Sherlock watched Mycroft finish setting his hair and met his eyes in the mirror. “I’ve seen you in the temple.”

Mycroft’s hands stilled. “It’s perfectly natural to pray for the kingdom.”

“You were praying for yourself. And crying.”

Mycroft looked away. “I don’t have a soulmate,” he said. “And sometimes I wish I did.”

“You have affection. I know about you and that beta noble.”

Mycroft sighed and went to the trunk again. “A moment's dalliance.”

“He wasn’t the first.” 

“What would you have me do?” snapped Mycroft. “I’ll never marry and have a pup like you. Should I simply stay celibate and in my rooms like Great Aunt Phylis?”

Sherlock got to his feet and went to Mycroft, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t expect to find John,” he said with unusual gentleness. “It’s not too late for you.”

“My chances grow dimmer every day. I don’t have very many years left when I could still bear pups.” He took a breath. “I’m not done dressing you. Sit, please,” he said softly.

Sherlock frowned but obeyed. 

Mycroft came back over with something in his hand. “I’ll be here to help you,” he promised again. Opening his hand he lay a necklace against Sherlock’s chest, blue stones and dark chain standing out on his pale skin. 

“Grandmother gave you this for your wedding.” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed.

“And I’m giving it to you,” said Mycroft, clasping the chain. 

“I’m borrowing it, but it’s going back into your wedding chest.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.” Sherlock carefully touched his hair, wrapping a ringlet around one finger and letting it fall again.

Mycroft put an ermine cloak around his brother’s shoulders and smoothed the fabric.

“You look every inch a Queen,” said a familiar voice from the doorway.

Sherlock and Mycroft turned in unison. “Mother,” said Mycroft, bowing slightly.

He waved him off. “Stop that.” Smiling, he went to Sherlock and helped him to his feet. Mycroft took step back and quelled the spike of jealousy in his heart. It would do him no good, and truly he was happy for his brother. He’d been blessed by the Gods in more ways than one and now he’d be taking his place as heir.

Mycroft knew he could still be useful, and in the end, that was what he was good at. Being useful.

“Prince John and his company arrived a few hours ago. Are you ready for your wedding?” Mother smiled softly at Sherlock. 

Mycroft turned away, busying himself with putting things away. He mumbled an excuse and stepped out of the room so they could have a few moments alone.

Slipping down the hall, Mycroft escaped to his own room. The sky was growing darker; the wedding would take place at sunset. From his window he could see the garden, set up for the small but royal wedding, servants putting on the finishing touches and lighting the torches and candles.

Closing his eyes, Mycroft turned away. He took a few deep breaths, reminding himself of his place as he went to get into his own dress. Something fairly plain that wouldn’t take the attention off of Sherlock.

“This one,” said Anthea, stepping into the room with a dress of midnight blue over her arm.

“Thank you,” said Mycroft, allowing her to help him change.

“It will be your turn,” said Anthea.

Mycroft rubbed at his eyes, willing himself not to cry. “Everyone says that, Anthea, and yet, here I am. Most likely my soulmate was a pig farmer that died many decades ago.”

Anthea ran her hands through his hair, fixing it. “Even if that were true, it does not make you less.”

“Without a soulmate or a heat I can never be Queen. I’ll help Sherlock like I help Mother.”

“Lord Bafton may come back this winter,” said Anthea.

“He’s marrying this summer,” said Mycroft. “And besides, you know my rules. I won’t sleep with a beta more than once. After that, they start to get attached and have unreasonable expectations.”

Anthea shrugged and put a necklace around his throat, something much simpler than the one he’d given Sherlock. “Will you be alright?” she asked, with honest concern.

“At the wedding? I must be. Would hardly do for me not to be or to beg off. I know how to do my duty.” Mycroft stood and smoothed his dress down, noticing the plumpness at his hips. A bell rang out from the castle chapel. “It’s time.”

Anthea nodded and placed a small tiara on his head. Mycroft looked at himself in the mirror, made sure he looked perfectly collected, and walked out of the room.

His feet felt heavy as he approached the garden, but Mycroft kept his back straight, a tiny, gracious smile on his face that he knew didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Mycroft had almost reached the garden when a man in the livery of John’s kingdom hurried out of a side passage and collided with him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” The man reached out his hand to steady Mycroft and the instant they touched it was like a bolt ran through Mycroft’s body.

Blinking and meeting the man’s eyes, Mycroft could see he felt it too. Suddenly lightheaded, Mycroft took a breath. “I’m Princess Mycroft. And you are…?”

“Greg Lestrade. Prince John’s cousin, of sorts anyway. Are… are you alright? You’re looking a bit pale.”

“I’m always a bit pale,” murmured Mycroft, allowing himself to be led to a bench there in the hall. Greg put an arm around him and Mycroft was surprised at just how natural it felt.

Greg leaned in to scent him and Mycroft blushed at the impertinence, only to realize just how flush he was suddenly feeling. “G...Gregory, do you have a soulmate?”

“I think I do now,” he said, growling slightly and pulling Mycroft almost into his lap.

Mycroft knew they were still in the hall and not far from the garden. “Not here,” he murmured. 

“Princess, I hope you know somewhere close by because I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself for much longer.” His hands squeezed Mycroft’s hips.

Mycroft felt himself starting to slick. “This way,” he gasped, reluctantly pulling out of Greg’s grasp and hurrying into a servant’s passage. Greg was close on his heels as Mycroft opened a trapdoor and led the way down into one of the cellars. Greg pulled the trapdoor closed behind them. He went through a few more passages before pushing open a door and lighting a torch with shaking hands.

This was one of his hidden spots, somewhere he’d go when he wanted to be alone and away from the bustle of the castle. And not easily locatable. There was a simple mattress against one wall and a stack of books.

Mycroft dropped to his hands and knees on the mattress. “Alpha,” he moaned, undergarments already growing soaked.

Greg groaned and fell down behind him. “Princes… may I…?” he asked, pushing up Mycroft’s skirts.

Mycroft smiled into the mattress. “Soulmate,” he murmured.

“Seems like,” said Greg, almost laughing as he stripped off Mycroft’s underclothes. “Gods, I never thought I’d find mine.”

“I’d nearly given up hope,” admitted Mycroft. He groaned as Greg stroked his thigh. “Yes. Please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” murmured Greg, nipping Mycroft’s thigh.

Mycroft blushed. “I haven’t been with an alpha, but I’m not inexperienced. _Please_.”

Needing no more encouragement, Greg grabbed Mycroft’s hips and pushed his face into him, licking up his slick as if he wanted to taste every inch.

Mycroft cried out, reaching back to loosen his dress and drag it over his head.

“Fuck,” groaned Greg, pulling back to strip out of his own clothes. He flipped Mycroft onto his back and kissed him hard, hands in his hair, knocking the tiara onto the floor. 

“Alpha. Take me,” gasped Mycroft, filled with a need he’d never felt before.

Greg rolled Mycroft back onto his hands and knees and mounted him all at once.

Mycroft nearly came right there, groaning, hands fisting the mattress. Perhaps not a location fit for a princess, but at this moment it was the least of his cares.

Greg thrust hard, his cock thick and long. Mycroft felt full to bursting and yet wanted more. Greg’s knot started to swell and Mycroft spread his knees wider.

“Beautiful,” murmured Greg, panting and kissing the back of his neck.

Mycroft angled his head, offering his scent pad on instinct, needing to be taken and claimed in every way possible.

Greg growled and shoved in his knot, biting down at the same time.

Mycroft cried out again, going limp as he was filled to his very soul, the pleasure of the bond and the sensation of being filled overwhelming all else. He was dimly aware of Greg wrapping his arms around him and tipping them onto their sides, licking the bond mark and nuzzling his hair.

“Pleased to meet you,” managed Mycroft after a few minutes.

Greg chuckled darkly. “The pleasure is mine,” he murmured hotly in Mycroft’s ear, holding his hip and grinding against him.

Mycroft shivered as he felt Greg come again. “We’re late for the wedding,” he said, eyes still closed.

“They’ll forgive us. You’re Sherlock’s older brother?”

“Yes. I hope you don’t mind being a Queen’s consort.”

“As long as you’re the Queen I don’t mind at all.” He rolled Mycroft onto his stomach and ground against him. “God, you’re amazing.”

Greg struck something inside of him and Mycroft moaned, coming again.

Humming softly, Greg nuzzled him, only to tighten his arms around him at a knock on the door. 

“It’s fine, Anthea,” called Mycroft.

“Everyone is looking for you two,” she said, without opening the door.

“Tell them we’re indisposed,” said Mycroft, his words turning to a moan as Greg mouthed the fresh bond mark

“I’ll speak with your mother,” said Anthea. Mycroft could hear her rolling her eyes, but she walked away from the door.

Greg started thrusting again as his knot had gone down.

“Are you always this insatiable?” asked Mycroft

“Just you.” Greg pulled out and rolled Mycroft onto his back before thrusting back in and kissing him deeply.

Mycroft smiled into the kiss, relaxed and trusting.

**

Sometime later they helped one another dress, fixed each others hair and emerged from the little room.

“You missed the wedding,” said Sherlock as they walked into the banquet holding hands. John grinned at them both. Mother eyed the fresh bondmark.

“Mother, this is Greg Lestrade,” said Mycroft.

Greg bowed to her, unable to stifle his own smile. 

“Well, this has certainly been a day for our family. We’ll discuss what happens next later, but for now, eat.”

“Thank you,” said Mycroft, leading Greg to a seat, for once not minding the stares and whispers because he knew that he was no longer alone.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter and tumblr at merindab


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